Awfully Close
by R. K. Iris
Summary: You know God has a funny humour when He drives a man who held a gun at you the day before to save your life. -A birthday gift for I'veMadeItMyOTP (Adei) and all those other AmeBel lovers out there (you too, Jani).-


**A/T: I wish I could have a segment where I talked about my first attempt on making hakka noodles…but it's not going to be as appreciated as an AmeBel… ;( **

**Just kidding—I'm going to write that AmeBel…this is for Adei (I'veMadeItMyOTP), since her birthday's coming up, and Cyjanidybel, who's totally crazy about AmeBel—I swear to God, that's all she has on her favourite's list. That and something else. **

**So, HAPPAY BIRTHDAY, ADEI!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

Awfully Close

America wondered where Belarus was. The meeting hadn't resumed yet—only he and a few others were in the room, and the rest were still having their tea break, and America suspected quite a number of them to be catching forty winks, too, especially the Mediterranean countries. Germany was here, Austria, Hungary, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania were also there, talking quietly to each other. The noise was coming from two rooms down the corridor, where people were supposedly having a 'civilized tea break, as custom of the British'.

Pah.

He knew for a fact that Belarus would be one of the first to return—she hated the noise and the general gaiety of the tea-room, along with nearly every other person there. When Russia wasn't around, it was easier to get to know her—after she'd opened up, of course. That had happened when America had come back from the tea-room early once, only to find her sitting there, alone, working on her tablet.

They'd just started talking about what she was doing, and it went from there to the Great Wall of China and back. Belarus had a startling grip over History—she knew more inside stories than anyone else—and her take on defence, military and weapons interest America a lot. As soon as the rest of them came, however, she'd glared him away, and they'd traded the usual insults across the table.

But Al started coming in earlier and earlier until he stopped going altogether, waiting for her to come back from the ladies' room so that they could talk together.

And she wasn't back, even after forty five minutes.

It was a surprise, even to him, that he was worried about her after what happened yesterday…

* * *

-_yesterday_-

Even as he spoke, even as England counter-spoke both his and her points, America saw her hand twitching, and he knew what it meant. Quick as lightning, he saw Belarus' hand flash into the folds of her apron, and his hand moved to his holster in response. Before anyone could realize it, she had her knife drawn and he his gun, and were aiming for each other's head.

He didn't even know what had happened himself, but he was on his head, looking at the gleaming end of a sharp throw-knife, his eyes looking into the unusual blue eyes of its owner. He knew a lot of people who'd shit in their pants while having to face the barrel of a gun, but she was staring it dead on.

"You will not disrespect Big Brother," she said softly, her voice carrying across the dead silence at the table. And all he could think of, asshole that he was, was how pretty she looked with her hair up.

"Oh, I mean no disrespect, Belarus," he said, his voice smooth and easy, just the way which irritated her the most. But one look at those eyes and they were as dead as the men she'd killed with the throw knife she was holding.

He heard a chair scrape on the floor, and his hand brought out his other gun, pointing it this time at Russia, who'd gotten up. America tilted his head a little so that he could keep an eye on both of them. "How 'bout you sit down, Russia? Kinda hard, pointing guns at two people, especially when the safety catch's off."

"Stop pointing that gun at Belarus, _da_? I'll sit down then."

"Aw, Russia, don't worry—Belarus is a big gurl. She can take care of herself, can't you, darlin'?"

"She's my sister, America."

Russia's tone was quiet, menacing and firm, all at the same time, but Russia didn't intimidate America anymore, even though that sword of his was awfully close to his neck. "And she can handle herself," America repeated, and looked from Russia to Belarus and back. "What do you guys really think? The speed of your weapons is faster than a bullet?"

"Yes," Belarus said flat out, and he rolled his eyes. He turned to Russia. "Who do you think would die first, you or me, given that _I_ have the gun and _you_ the sword?"

"I'll have you bleeding over the floor first"—

"Not if I dodge," America responded calmly, as if talking about the bunny-shaped cloud in the sunny sky. "Whether I dodge or not, I'll still plant a bullet in your head."

"Sit down, or you're _all_ dead!"

All of them turned, and saw a fuming Germany glaring at them, and America wondered why they weren't dead already. With a shrug, America lowered both his guns, and holstered one, his eyes on Russia and Belarus. Russia lowered his sword, and the siblings looked at each other. A message passed between them, and they nodded at each other. Russia sat down, and America trained his eyes on Belarus, one eyebrow raised. Slowly, they both sat down in tandem, mirroring the other's movements. America placed his gun on the table, pointed towards her, and sat back in his chair. His unspoken message angered her, and he could see fury flash in those blue eyes of hers.

With a small smile, he sat back, thinking about how exciting meetings could be with her around.

* * *

-_and back to today-_

No matter what happened during the meetings, they always kept it out of their discussions.

Only Belarus wasn't there.

Lithuania walked over to a pensive America. "Is everything alright, America?"

America jolted from his private thoughts, and looked at Lithuania. "Seen Belarus anywhere?"

Lithuania frowned. "I'm sorry, America…I think she might be out somewhere."

America frowned, and Lithuania honestly didn't like seeing his friend worried. "I have that new ninja game on my phone that you wanted to play. Do you"—

"Hell yeah!"

Lithuania laughed. The attraction America had towards virtual games was amazing. He fished out his phone, and handed it to America. "I need to go check on something with my boss. I'll see you during the meeting."

America was already neck deep into the game, so he just grunted Lithuania goodbye. How Lithuania got the game before he did was beyond him—but as long as he could play, nothing else mattered.

And just when he was awfully close to breaking the previous record, a message popped up.

America was mad. Very, very mad.

But he looked at the sender-ID, and it was from Belarus. Curious, he opened it and read, slowly forgetting about the game, the meeting, even where he was—all he could think about was Belarus.

_I know you delete all your messages, so my last is for you. You're not going to stop me. If you _don't_ delete it, you can find my body somewhere down the river near here. Goodbye, Toris. _

_-Nat-_

Al read the message again, and deleted it. He tossed the phone onto the table, and pushed his chair back—it fell down, but he didn't care. He ran outside, only to slam into England.

"For God's sakes, America, do watch"—

"I'm not going to stay for the meeting—bye!" He pushed through the crowd, even as people yelled at him, yelled after him.

Damn Belarus, but she wasn't going to ruin it for them by jumping off a bridge.

* * *

_You embarrass me._

_You irritate me._

_Your presence is worth nothing._

_You are less useful than a dog—you're a girl._

_You can't do anything._

_You can't…_

_You are…_

_I don't love you._

Belarus closed her eyes at that last one. She'd cried all the tears she had to. She wasn't going out red-eyed.

She'd endured years of torture, centuries of struggle, with the pressure closing in like a hand around her throat—all thanks to one man. She'd survived—all with the help of the same man. And she didn't feel like doing it anymore.

She'd tried slashing, stabbing, shooting, jumping off a cliff, poisoning—everything except this. And every time she'd tried, she'd failed, simply because she'd survived all that, with someone else initiating the 'final' blow. She'd been hacked, shot, thrown off ledges and poisoned countless number of times, and her body was immune. But this was new.

She still had to try drowning.

It wasn't completely because of Big Brother. She'd had enough at his hands, and she was at that position where she could tell him to back off. It was just…

Life was not worth living if she couldn't share it with someone, especially when she was going to live forever.

She knew, for a fact, that another Belarus would appear in her place. Maybe her name would be the exact same as hers—Natalia Arlovskaya—or maybe she'd have a different birth name. But there would be another Belarus moments after she died. It had happened once, a long time ago, and ever since then, nobody had tried it—nobody liked the thought of having to leave behind all of one's achievements just to have someone else take the credit. But Belarus didn't care. She didn't have any achievements to her name—maybe just in finding the most insane way of repaying one's gratitude.

Smiling, she opened her eyes, and took one step forward, and anot—

"Natalia!"

The second leg found no purchase in air, and with a surprised yelp, she began to fall.

America lunged and grabbed her, hands locking underneath her arms, but her dead weight was too much for him. With a yell, he toppled over the wall of the bridge, and the two of them fell into the water.

The surface of the water hit him like a ton of bricks breaking over him on impact, but he knew better than to gasp. Before the cold of the water could rip through his muscles and numb him, he began moving to the surface, his mind working only on getting the oxygen it needed. He surfaced and gasped, his greedy lungs filling themselves with air, and his mind began working.

_She can't swim_.

Through the haze of water, he could see platinum blonde hair floating over the surface, rapidly moving away from him.

_Save her._

He cut across the waters, the current moving with him, but just the push of the current wasn't enough. He moved even faster, diving in when he lost sight of her hair.

_A little more…a little more…_

His hands wrapped around her waist, and he dragged the two of them, cross-current, towards the bank. In his mind, she seemed to grow heavier and heavier.

He dug his fingers into the earth, and dragged her out of her current, gasping for air. Even as the burning in his lungs was soothed, he dragged himself to his feet and placed his hands on her chest, trying to pump the water out.

_One, two, three, four, five—breathe in_.

He opened her mouth and placed his on hers, breathing into her. He lifted his mouth, turned his ear to her mouth, waiting for a sign. Without a second's haste, he pumped again, thinking about nothing but saving her.

_You're awfully close to living, Natalia—so live, dammit!_

He opened her mouth, breathed in, checked. He sat back, and began pumping again,

Water rushed from inside her and moved up, the last pump pushing it out through her mouth, jerking her into consciousness. She curled to her side and began coughing the water out, trying to get air into her system.

Alfred literally fell to the side—he got off her and fell into the muddy embankment, the cold and fatigue rushing into him all at once. His limbs felt like lead and ice had been pumped into them, but he reached out and dragged Natalia to his side, not really observing her compliancy. She rolled over and settled her head over his arm, shivering by his side.

"D-Dumb…idea, huh?" Alfred wheezed, not having the strength to turn and look at her yet.

"Did not…seem…like it…" she whispered through chattering teeth. He wanted to warm her, but he didn't know how—neither did he have the energy to get up. Still, he pulled himself up, and dragged her onto his lap, settling her between his legs, pulling her back against his chest. "Why?" he breathed into her ear. He removed his jacket, feeling infinitely colder and better for it, and wrapped his hands around her.

"…Tired of living…" she whispered back.

His mouth found her cold earlobe, and he rolled it between his teeth, his tongue flicking it to and fro in a slow, lazy rhythm.

"W-What are you…doing?" she murmured, sighing as his mouth ran over her earlobe.

"Warming you," he whispered, his hot breath falling over her moist ear, igniting the fire in the pit of her stomach. His hands slowly moved up and down hers, rubbing heat into them and into her. She didn't know what to do except feel his hands over her, his mouth pressing into her neck, his breath moving hot over her wet skin…she was growing warmer and warmer, forgetting the cold, forgetting where they were, who they were—nothing existed beyond his touch and the sensations running through her body.

"Draw your legs in," he whispered into her ear, raising his mouth from her neck. She did as he told, and dropped her head back against his shoulder when he ran his hands up and down, from ankle to knee in a rapid motion.

"I don't know why you did it, darlin'," he whispered into her ear. "But the timing was off. Thing is, I really don't care—I'll believe whatever you say, Bela. But don't leave me again. There's nothing that hurts me more."

The haze dropped, and she turned to look at him. "Alfred…"

"We're actually in the middle of something, Natalia. Call it whatever you like—it's up to you—but, Nat, there's going to be a time when the only reason I go anywhere is because you'll be there."

"You are hitting on me."

He reached out and bit her ear. At her yelp, he released, and whispered into her ear, "I just saved your pretty ass. I get to hit on you." He drew back, saw the growing tumult of emotions in her eyes. "I want to know more about you, Natalia. I want to know everything." He saw the look in her eyes, and he smiled a little. "Call me a creep or a selfish bastard, but I want to know more about you than you do yourself."

"It's called _lyubov_."

He smiled, and tucked back a stray lock of hair plastered to her face. "I know. And I'm awfully close to being in love with you, too."

She smiled shyly. "People will be shocked."

Al frowned thoughtfully as he cupped her cheek. "Maybe. But we're alike."

"My brother will kill us."

"Stop talking when I'm trying to warm you."

"You aren't doing anything."

He drew her face to his. "I am now."

He pressed his clammy lips to her cold ones, drawing heat from each other, kindling the flames that bloomed in their bodies, warming them, engulfing them. And as she kissed him back, she knew he was right about one thing.

Maybe there'd come a time when she'd be just as awfully close, too.

-_Fin_-

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**A/T: Tell me what you think! Adei, Jani, and all those AmeBel crazies out there, I hope you like it!**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


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